When in Goode
by The Periodic Table of Converse
Summary: Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?" / Part of my Hell to Pay universe. COMPLETE
1. Bruce's Discontent

_**When in Goode**_

_**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**_

_**A/N: Hey guys, tPToC here. First off, I normally write Fanfiction one-shots or first chapters, and then save them to my desktop and forget about them. This was just one of the luckier stories.**_

_**This story is part of my 'Hell to Pay universe', which means Peter is a part of the team.**_

_**NOTE- IF YOU HAVE NOT READ 'Hell to Pay', DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT. THIS STORY COMES FIRST IN THE TIMELINE ANYWAYS.**_

_**The Battle of Manhattan has just taken place where this story begins. During the battle, in this universe, some mortal didn't fall asleep by sheer chance- maybe they were an undiscovered demigod- but they managed to get a picture of Percy swinging from the Clazmonian Sow. Then they posted it on their blog and the picture went viral.**_

_**Bruce and Percy are the main two characters, with smaller appearances from people like the team, Fury, and Thalia and Nico.**_

_**The pairings are canon! I don't ship Stony, or Science Boyfriends. I think Pepperony is cute and Percabeth is adorable. But there will be no appearances by Annabeth, and Pepper's role is very small. No fluffy romance- sorry!**_

_**(While Thalia did become a Hunter in the series, I think it was more so she wouldn't have to deal with the prophecy. Therefore, she really does like boys. In this universe, there probably won't be any Thalico, but once the battle finished Thalia left the Hunters.)**_

**-O- **

_**We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.**_

**Jim Morrison**

**-O- **

Percy always knew that some of the mortals hadn't fallen asleep during the Battle of Manhattan. Rachel was a prime example of that. There was obviously going to be at least one more mortal in New York City that could see through the Mist. He was talking about one of the largest cities in the United States- hell, maybe even in the world. (Percy wasn't sure, and he sure as Hades didn't have time to check.)

But still… Percy figured they would have walked outside, seen mortals strewn about on the streets, panicked, and ran back inside before they could have gotten a second glance. He sure as hell didn't expect to see a picture of himself dangling from that stupid Clazmonian Sow with the Hermes statue, (or whatever in Hades that stupid pig was called), in a blog. So when suddenly a picture of a teenage boy with black hair and a baseball bat is dangling thirty feet below a small pink airplane appeared one day on the Internet (taken during the time that people were conked out on the streets), the mortals knew something was up.

Apparently, the Mist even worked on pictures, so reports were filing in that some people saw a boy with a sword dangling from a flying pig. (Percy figured there was probably a special mental hospital for them somewhere remote, like maybe Area 51. Poor clueless mortals.)

Also, a nation-wide man-hunt was going on, and the poor shmuck they wanted this time _(again)_ was Percy. Obviously they didn't know they were looking for Percy, but that's who they were targeting. Percy was well aware of the search. His friends and teachers talked about the mysterious 'pig-boy' every spare second they got, discussing what may have gone down while everyone was asleep, and how they thought the mystery teenager was involved. Percy wasn't sure whether to scowl or laugh when he heard that the debate team had used him as their newest topic.

Unfortunately, Percy was unaware that a man named Director Fury was already hot on his tail. SHIELD had narrowed down the search much faster than the rest of the country, using common things like his skin tone and his height compared to the statue he was holding on to for dear life. (Fury couldn't get over what the idiots in the rest of the country were thinking, ignoring skin tone, and hair color and height comparison with the big Hermes statue.)

So far, they had him narrowed down to being a student in Goode High School, but Fury knew that the only way they were going to find the kid was if they infiltrated the place. There were at least two thousand kids in all.

A lot of SHIELD agents couldn't set foot in a classroom. Most of them were trained assassins, and if a kid got a little too rude they might end up pulling a gun on the brat. Fury knew Stark was definitely smart enough to teach a high school class, but he was Stark. There was no way Stark plus the profession of a high school teacher equaled happiness all around. While Steve would be an excellent professor for Goode High's early 1900's semester-long history class, he was shy and awkward, and high school was like a second home for cigarettes, drugs and inappropriateness.

Clint and Natasha were both assassins and had very short fuses, and Thor would do well in a Norse Mythology elective, but he was too loud and naïve to the rest of life. That left Dr. Banner. Obviously he'd fit right in as a teacher, him being a genius and all, and the public had no idea he was the Hulk. The only thing Fury had to worry about was a bunch of rude high-schoolers setting him off. That would be the end of Dr. Banner's trips outside of the Stark Tower.

Fury was willing to risk it.

-O-

Bruce Banner leans forward in his straight-backed chair, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You want me to infiltrate this high school and look for a kid." He speaks slowly, as though he is speaking to a child. "Yeah, that'll be easy." He rests his elbows on the conference table, looking wearily around the room. Fury stands at the head of the table, flipping through a slim file of papers. The Director rolls his eyes at the sarcasm.

"Yes, Dr. Banner. I do. We're looking for a boy believed to be in his junior year with tan skin and dark hair. All you have to do is teach a simple science class for the kids who are behind and look out for a boy matching the description we have on him. He will most likely act weird, or miss class periods sporadically. I assure you Dr. Banner, it is a fairly simple task." Bruce scowls when Fury slides the blank grey file across the table top to him. The cover swings open with the momentum, and unfortunately, Bruce has always been curious. He picks up the folder, flipping through the thin stack of papers clipped to the file.

"Why are you so interested in this kid anyways? What is he, an assassin?" Bruce mutters, shooting Fury a glance. The papers are mostly gibberish, or public surveys SHIELD got from the basic government databases. No names or physical descriptions are listed beside what Bruce assumes the rest of the world already knows: he has a nice tan and raven hair. Instead, strings of words most likely taken directly from hurried notes are clumped together and highlighted. Some of the more important looking ones are 'Shield Watch Pen Sword Croquet Stick Baseball Bat Mallet', and 'Earthquake Gun Thor Water'. Bruce furrows his eyebrows and squints at the random words on the page.

Fury pulls a thick envelope from his cloak pocket and hands it to Bruce. "This contains everything you need to know: instructions, a set of car keys and where your fake address is. Hell, we even included a teaching schedule with worksheets and pop quizzes. And directions on what to do when you have confirmed your suspicions." Fury turns to leave. Bruce watches him go, leather coat swishing against his ankles rhythmically. He makes the job sound so easy.

He flips past another page of random words, then an article on the New York City Shutdown, as the public is calling it. Buried underneath a picture of two statues strangling each other is a widely known photograph. The only actual photograph he's going to get of the kid. Bruce takes one look at it and makes up his mind. He's going to do the mission.

He already knows why Fury wants him to do this. Bruce leaves the picture in its spot near the back of the packet, having already committed it to memory.

Underneath a stack of confusing phrases and clumps of words is an image of a boy in orange, grasping a bronze sword in one hand, the other hooked around a statue's shoulders and swinging from a rope. The rope is looped tightly around a large sow's bright pink wing.

-O-

Tony is sprawled across Bruce's favorite armchair when he returns to Stark Tower. He mentally cusses Stark out in his head, because after his day, he needs that chair, a cup of tea and a really good book. And maybe a nice little table lamp and some peace and quiet. The team can go eat shawarma for all he cares, Bruce is staying in tonight.

"Heyy Brucie! How was your day?" Tony drawls, head tipped back against the armrest of the chair. He grins mischievously at the frustrated and cranky genius, who happens to be close to an all-out Hulk-out. Bruce narrows his eyes at the billionaire. He has half a mind to call the guy out. He could remark offhandedly _"Go home Tony, you're drunk,"_ like all of the times he hears him mention the cliché to a team member when they do something stupid.

"Not today Tony. I'm not in the mood." He grumbles. Bruce shuffles past the armchair, sofa and enters the kitchen, his sour mood having doubled in two short minutes. Tony is hot on his heels. He plunks himself down ungracefully on a bar stool and watches as Bruce sinks into a kitchen chair. A weary sigh escapes his lips.

"Seriously, what happened?" He asks, getting up lazily. Tony fills a mug with water and sticks it into the microwave. Bruce watches him curiously. The guy always demands Pepper or Steve or Bruce make his drink.

"You don't like tea." He states when Tony pulls a box of Lipton tea bags from the overhead cupboard. He shoots Bruce a look when he pulls the ceramic mug from the microwave and plunks a teabag into the steaming water.

"But you do." He replies, handing the steeping drink to Bruce. The two men sit in compatible silence while the herbs from the teabag seep into the water. Finally, Bruce takes a tentative sip: green tea. What a comedian Tony is.

The billionaire offers Bruce a cheeky grin and wiggles his eyebrows. Bruce rolls his eyes; the antics he puts up with aren't even worth the strife. The tea is good though, and he feels a little bit better.

"Well, at least you're good for one thing." He says finally, eyes glued to the wall behind Tony. Said man gasps, hand clutching his Arc Reactor dramatically.

"After all I do for you?" He cries, staring dumbfounded at Bruce. "I might as well pry this out, and save myself a world of pain." The frustrated doctor laughs, which Tony count as a win. Not many people can say they're professional 'Hulk-calmer-downer's'.

"So really. What happened today?" Tony asks, ignoring Bruce's glare. The way he's sagged over the table, eyes drooping in fatigue… guy must feel miserable. Tony returns the look with vigor and Bruce's shoulders slump in defeat. "Was Fury on your case about something?"

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Bruce pauses to take a long swallow of the tea. The heat warms his tongue, making him feel even drowsier than his tiring day. Tony watches him expectantly while he swishes the drink around the inside of his mouth.

"But what happened?" Tony whines, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the countertop. Bruce directs his gaze down into the swirling tea water.

"He gave me a mission." Bruce finally says after several minutes of silence. Tony's expression betrays nothing. His face remains impassive as Bruce sighs and takes another gulp.

"Last I checked, I wasn't even a SHIELD agent. And I still said I would do it." Bruce's expression is sour. Instead he focuses on draining half of the remaining tea. Tony doesn't push for answers, which shocks Bruce. Instead, he stands there with a lukewarm cup of coffee in one hand, eyes trained steadily on Bruce.

The silence is thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Bruce recognizes that Tony is dying inside as he waits for Bruce to spill the events of the day. But he doesn't want to deal with the idea of him as a high school teacher.

"Okay! I can't take it anymore!" Tony whines again. Bruce looks up from his mug and his empty teabag, startled by the childish outburst. "You have to tell me!" This time there is no tea to drink to escape answering. _His glasses look smudged, don't they? He should probably clean them._ Bruce pulls them off his nose and wipes the lenses along the hem of his shirt.

"Fury wants me on an infiltration of some high school." He says eventually. Tony stands off to the side, eating up the details. "They're looking for a junior with dark hair. They think he could be a hostile."

"So? What's so special about him that makes him a hostile to SHIELD?"

"He fights with a sword. I assume he's good, but I can't make assumptions. Nobody has seen him in action before." Bruce reaches a hand underneath the table and retrieves his bag. Tucked inside a pocket is the file Fury gave him earlier that day. Tony watches as he flips through the sheaf of papers. Eventually Bruce holds up a large photograph.

Tony's eyes widen instantly. They've all heard about the mystery man with the sword. They've all seen the picture of him swinging from a giant flying pig. And they've all been briefed on the varying reports of what people saw. Some claimed the kid was dangling below a blimp. Others were convinced he was swinging a lacrosse stick.

"Whoa. This is a serious mission. What are you posing as, a janitor?" Tony asked, taking the picture from Bruce. The man's back is turned towards the camera. One of his arms is hooked securely around a large statue of Hermes. His other hand holds a long bronze sword.

"No. I'm a science teacher." Bruce scowls at the way Tony snickers. He doesn't want to spend eight hours a day teaching kids about the periodic table, and how to properly dissect a frog. He's not that kind of doctor. Heck, he's not even a qualified teacher! Sure, he can read through a ninth grade textbook and understand what the big-kid words mean, but he doesn't do children unless they're foreign and dying.

Wow, he _has_ to get out more.

Bruce rubs the lenses a bit harder, and Tony steps forward. The spectacles are practically pried from Bruce's hands in an effort to preserve the lenses. "Okay. Just calm yourself down and I'll make you some more tea." He roots around for another box of teabags. Bruce sits on the edge of his chair, breathing slowly.

"So when do you start?" Tony asks conversationally as he pops the mug into the microwave.

"Tomorrow."

-O-

The car SHIELD has provided is nondescript; black coloring, tan leather interior, mediocrely tinted windows. It seats four comfortably: Bruce's alias consists of him being a man named Joseph Perkins, who has a wife away on a yearlong business trip and a son serving overseas. Nothing too atypical for your average New Yorker.

Of course, Fury has the easy job, setting Bruce up with a name, a car and a small apartment he doubts he'd use for storage space, let alone his living accommodations. No, Bruce is the one getting up at five twenty in the morning with a work bag full of study guides and worksheets.

Also, Bruce is there to act as a semester-long replacement for the previous science teacher, who broke her leg during a particularly exciting lab involving cow hearts, extension cords and two mischievous students. (After that he will be returning to his full-time job as a scientist in Stark Tower, who needs to take a small breather after the invasion of the Chitauri six months ago.)

Bruce has always hated lying; it was essential when he was still on the run from Ross, the psychopathic general, or when he needed a job to pay for his research on a cure. But now it felt wrong. He has a luxurious room in Stark Tower, and friends who provide him with a job and food and the technology he needs to continue researching. And he's still lying to people… innocent people, who never signed up to be attacked in their home city.

This is why Bruce doesn't do well dealing with emotions.

-O-

"You must be Joseph Perkins." Bruce turns to look at the man beside him. He has salt and pepper hair and kind brown eyes. A hind is extended towards him. "I'm Paul Blofis. I teach English in room 306."

"Ah. Yes, that would be me." His response is short and somewhat tight, but the man – Paul – doesn't notice. Instead the teacher smiles kindly at him and shakes his hand.

"I was instructed by Mr. Denman to show you around. Kind of like the kids do, with the student buddy and all that." He laughs and Bruce forces a few quiet chuckles. The man is nice and a little too energetic. And not at all shy.

"I appreciate the help. Would you mind showing me to room 412?" He says, looking at a sheaf of attendance papers with his fake name and room number on them. Paul takes the paper and nods earnestly.

"Sure!" He exclaims, handing the stack back. "I can show you. Right this way." Paul gestures down a hallway with overdramatic flourish and a smile. Bruce resists the urge to shield his eyes from the too-bright grin being shot his way.

"Erm, thanks." He manages, meandering slowly after the enthusiastic man. The school is middle-class, like any regular high school. Gunmetal grey lockers stacked two high line the walls. The classroom doors are painted a plain mahogany brown.

"Here we are!" Paul Blofis finally exclaims. He twists the doorknob on the door marked 412, and flips on the light switch inside. Bruce looks around in earnest. Inside the large room are several fire-proof tables with simple stools. A safety shower and an eye-wash machine are clumped in a back corner. Sinks line the far wall, complete with gas and air valves. A wide teacher's desk is situated off to the left of the door.

All in all, the place looks like a standard science classroom.

"I'll leave you to unpack. Class starts in half an hour." Paul waves goodbye and talks until he's out the door, rambling about how he doesn't want Bruce to be unprepared for his first class.

_Home sweet home, huh?_

-O-

"Hey. Who was that?" A voice rings from behind Paul. The teacher turns to face the speaker.

"Oh, that was Mr. Perkins. He'll be your replacement science teacher for the rest of the year." Paul says, staying put. The teen runs to catch up with him.

"Oh. So Mrs. Dooley is going to be out for the rest of the year?" He asks, a frown tugging at his lips. Paul sighs sympathetically. He's aware that Mrs. Dooley was one of the only teachers who actually tried to help with his stepson's dyslexia.

"I'm sorry Percy. But I think you'll like Mr. Perkins. He doesn't seem like the type to berate people for no reason." Paul defends. Percy scowls at the ground while they walk.

"Whatever you say." He finally mumbles. If the guy has earned Paul's approval, Percy decides he deserves a chance.

"That's the spirit." Paul encourages. "Now, go on and get to class."

Percy shoots him a grin. "Sure thing, Mr. Blofis."

**A/N: Well I like it… So do you? I love reviews, you guys eriously rock. I was looking at Hell to Pay, and all of you who favorited, followed or reviewed, you have no idea how elated I was to see that scroll bar on the right hand side of the screen!**

**Keep it up! I'll try to post ASAP, but like I said, school is hard, and the homework they give us sometimes takes from the moment I get home to when I fall asleep… Then again, I am a major procrastinator.**

**-tPToC**


	2. Percy's Magic Ruler

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**A/N: You are the most amazing people in the entire world! Less than 24 hours, and I already have five reviews, 20 favorites and 28 follows. And, 346 views! I started laughing at the table, and my dad was all like 'What?', and I'm just like 'Hee hee hee!'**

Bruce Banner's life has seemingly come to a sudden standstill. It's a loop, a broken record, a rewind button that's been pushed too hard and now it's jammed into the remote. (Dammit Tony, what did Steve tell you about giving Thor free reign of the living room electronics?!)

In conclusion, the Hulk, a monster feared by even the mightiest of men, the one who smashed the god Loki into the lounge room tiles, is utterly stuck. No kidding. Bruce Banner cannot take one more day of high school. Maybe it would be okay if he had a class of respecting seniors, whose mischief making days were behind them, or a group of fresh-faced, eager-to-please freshmen. But no. Bruce teaches science to a bunch of juniors, immature seventeen year olds who like spitballs and don't like pop quizzes on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays.

Hah. Director Fury must be having a hell of a laugh up on the helicarrier right now, because yesterday Bruce almost Hulked-out completely, and nearly smashed the safety shower in his rage.

He has half a mind to pull out of the mission, because there is no way Bruce wants to recruit some half-witted, jerk teenage boy for SHIELD if it means he'll have to see the delinquent around from time to time. Forget his scientific curiosity, and the potential danger he could be presenting to the entire city of New York, Bruce included. Nope, sorry, grey hairs and premature aging lines aren't his thing.

Of course, it's understood why Bruce has to be the one to root out the kid. For starters, he's the only one who doesn't have a professional kill record a mile and a half long, and won't faint at the sight of an iPhone (love you Steve and Thor, no disrespect intend – Oh quit your whining, Tony says way worse stuff about you!)

And really, if worst comes to worst, the Hulk may be necessary for an extraction.

That doesn't mean Bruce likes it.

-O-

There is something Bruce likes to call Doctor's Intuition, and before you ask, yes, he just made that up one the spot.

But he thinks he may have found him.

It seems too fast, and a little unnerving to think that the boy at the center of a worldwide manhunt could be sitting on a desk in Bruce's classroom after school. It seems downright frightening to think that Bruce is currently bandaging this boy's leg. It just seems ironic that Bruce stumbles upon the kid while he's trying to ward off bullies. And it's just kind of the good doctor that he had stepped in and shooed the brats away.

The kid's name is Percy Jackson. He's a junior, he's tall, there is indeed a mop of messy dark hair growing from his scalp, and there is a nice tan on his skin.

Bruce takes one look at the kid, notices the large and inflamed scrape down the teenager's leg from the scuffle in the schoolyard, and offers to clean it up for him, because the amount of damage Bruce has seen wounds like that do to people in India is not pretty. Percy had been pretty hesitant to accept the offer. He looked almost… wary.

Then he stuck his hand in his pocket, shrugged, and trailed several feet behind Bruce, down the hall to 412.

"I have you for science. Third period." He states, looking around the simple green colored room, so as not to be forced to meet his 'teacher's' eyes. Bruce lifts a shoulder in an absentminded 'probably' gesture, and bends down to dig through his SHEILD supplied briefcase. He remembers seeing a first-aid kit in here somewhere…

"So why were those kids bugging on you?" He asks conversationally, carefully even, because the constant threat lingers in his mind, halfway in the shadows. Percy glances nervously at the clock, takes note that it has been less than three minutes since he first entered the classroom, and plunks down on one of the desks nearby.

There is a buzz of silence while Percy attempts to formulate an answer that won't give anything away. "Well… I guess I'm just kind of a bad kid, ya' know. Like, I don't get around to turning in my homework most of the time. I'm tardy a lot, and I skip some classes for family issues. And… because I'm ADHD and Dyslexic." He sighs halfheartedly and stares up at the ceiling. "Are you gonna pick on me too now?"

Bruce gives a half laugh, half cheer, as he holds up the first aid kit. He pops the latch open and begins to root around for some disinfectant and bandages. "Nah. Got enough of that from my parents to figure out pretty quickly how it made people feel. I've seen a lot of people who ended up seriously hurt because of something they couldn't help." He tosses a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bag of cotton balls over his shoulder to Percy. "Put that on. And don't bother listening to them. They're just looking for a reaction to laugh at."

A dry laugh bubbles from Percy's throat before he can stop it. Bruce looks over curiously.

"I think they're mad that I have a teacher on my side. Mr. Blofis is my step-father, and he's pulled me out of more scrapes than I can count. There was this one time I had to leave halfway through third period, and he let me go. I guess he's pretty stingy about that sort of stuff with other kids." Then Percy realizes how that sounds and backpedals quickly. "I mean, he knows that it's important, when I have to duck out. He's not like… willingly allowing me to skip school because he's my step-father."

This caught Bruce's attention. Sure, Percy had mentioned something about family issues before, and how sometimes he had to leave school, but for other students to take an interest in the amount of time he spent out of classes, well… that had to be a considerable amount. Casually, he attempted to bring up the topic.

"So what requires so much attention?" He asks after a moment's pause, to seem as though he was thinking.

The teenager looks startled, his bright sea-green eyes taking on that 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look, and he stumbles over his words for a minute. "O- Oh, just… Well, I have to- It's really complicated, see… It, uh… It varies. L-Like once there was something wrong with my Uncle H's business, he's a really important… person," Percy says lamely, "And normally my family relies on the younger people to sort things out. I take a lot of… trips, dealing with… competitors, and I guess… Well, kids probably think it's weird that I can't turn in my classwork most of the time, and then I'm entrusted with the duty of… Well, you know."

There is a drawn silence while Percy blushes and dabs at the bloody scrape running down the length of his leg. He winces when the disinfectant goes on. Bruce chortles lightly, and tears off a piece of stretchy white gauze.

"I'm not great at explaining things… Sometimes my cousins will ask me if I'm sure there's not some kind of Dyslexia for speech that I might have." He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head. "I don't really get the chance to… ya' know, talk about myself a lot. There's normally more pressing things than which kid was picking on me that day… So thanks, I guess. For fixing me up and listening." Bruce pins the bandage in place and gives him a kind smile.

"Well, I'll be here for a semester if you need anything. You know where my room is." He gestures around him in a weak attempt at a joke. He isn't sure if Percy is laughing to be polite, or if he just enjoys bad humor.

"You know, Mr. Perkins. I kind of had my doubts – a lot of the teachers here aren't exactly qualified to teach ADHD dyslexic kids who come from delinquent schools. But I think you're okay."

And he waves, before swinging his backpack over his shoulder and runs out the open door.

-O-

"You had a heart to heart with him? Is the Hulk going soft?" Tony's head bobs over the indoor balcony, which looks down on the lounge (floor 88) from the circular hallway where the team's rooms are (floor 89). Bruce squints up at him, past the thousands of glistening stained glass shards forming an intricate chandelier of light and twirling spirals of glittering metal. It's new, a replacement for the white gold and iron one that used to hang in its place, and is now a twisted pile of scrap metal, courtesy of Thor's curiosity. Funny, Bruce never took Tony as a guy with an eye for beauty.

"It wasn't a heart to heart. The kid is bullied, Tony, and I feel bad for him. I don't think he would ever hurt anyone on purpose. It seems like he's just kind of… neglected." That word brings back sour memories, of his drunk father and his terrified mother, sleepless nights, a lost love, the people of Calcutta, who rejoiced when a doctor came and treated them, who wept when he disappeared, off to save the world.

There was something about the sad smile Percy got, and the distant look in his eyes when he talked about his family, kind of guilty, like he was lying but not really lying, perhaps to save himself from trouble, or maybe because he was embarrassed.

No, that was not a heart to heart conversation. That was a cry for help, unknown to others, and maybe unknown to even Percy, but heard loud and clear by one unlikely superhero.

Tony stares down at him, stoically nonplussed, an eyebrow cocked and a stature that practically screams 'I would put my hands on my hips if it weren't incredibly girlish!' Bruce realizes that his little speech was in his mind, and the egocentric billionaire probably heard none of it. "So you're saying the kid basically told you his life story for the fun of it, right? Sounds like the kind of thing people do, huh?"

There is a brief moment of quiet while each genius tries to stare down the other. Finally, Tony holds up his hands in surrender and announces he's 'going down to the workshop to see if he can pry anything usable off of that junk pile he calls Mark XIV'. Bruce ignores this and strides into the kitchen, all ready to settle down with a mug of tea and that file of his. Director Fury said something about instructions for what to do when Bruce had found the boy.

He has a mug in one hand and the SHIELD issued briefcase in the other, ready to relax, when he stops.

Someone is in his chair.

Again.

Seriously guys, give it a rest.

It's getting old.

"Dr. Banner. I trust your mission is going well." He says calmly, not really asking so much as telling him it better be going well.

Bruce sighs, and puts the tea down on a stray coaster left on the coffee table from team game night yesterday. "Yes sir, Director Fury. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

The man in question laughs, humorlessly, and Bruce watches as his signature black eye-patch crinkles over what Bruce assumes was once a perfectly normal right eye. He recalls the story of how Thor's father, Odin, lost an eye in the battle against the Frost Giants.

Fury rearranges his trench coat around him, and uncrosses his boots. "It would appear so, Doctor. Have you formed any suspicions yet?"

Bruce makes a split-second decision, choosing to shake his head and try to look apologetic. It seems the Director accepts this, or he possibly doesn't have the patience to push the subject further. He figures Tony was in here earlier, bugging Fury over something trivial.

"Very well, Doctor Banner. I hope to be hearing from you soon. Until then, good luck." And then he stands up swiftly, twists the belt of guns he wears around so it is once again facing forward, and strides to the elevator. Bruce holds his breath until the Director is gone, and then pointedly places the briefcase back on the floor against the sofa. To Fury, Percy Jackson is an asset. To Bruce, he's a patient, one he wants to help.

-O-

Turns out the confirmation that Percy Jackson is indeed the boy in the photograph is way easier than Bruce expected it to be. He figured it involved Hulking out, a brutal interrogation, losing the young boy's trust because he was working undercover. But no. All Bruce had to do was decide three days later that he is going to walk to Goode today, because it's a nice temperature out and the sun is shining. Plus, ten blocks isn't too tedious.

He passes a dark alley, the kind where superheroes usually save damsels in distress from thugs or gangs or whatever. There is a kind of grunting noise, and the occasional faint taunt or clang of metal on metal, echoing from the shadows, and Bruce has the curiosity any scientist has. So he makes a sharp U-turn and walks carefully through the narrow space between a grocer's and a cinema.

It feels like the trek takes hours, but it has been mere minutes when Bruce finally emerges from the alley, side sore from tripping on an overturned trashcan. Up ahead, a figure holds a stick of some sort – is that a _ruler?!_ – and seems to be dancing around a massive bloodhound, one almost the size of a pickup truck. Then the person swings the ruler at the canine and it seemingly morphs into a shining, three foot long sword. The strike slices down into the shaggy throat of the dog and then there is just a being, holding a weapon and staring at the golden dust coating the cement floor.

And then he has to turn and spot Bruce, looking apprehensive, confused, and maybe a little awed. It is Percy Jackson, the person is Percy Jackson, and Bruce's guess has just been proven correct, because the sword matches that in the picture Fury gave him.

"Mr. Perkins!" He yelps. "What did you see just then?!"

Bruce ignores the question. "My name is Doctor Robert Bruce Banner. You can call me Bruce." He looks at the sword in Percy's hand, then back to the panicked eyes of the teenager. Yep, he's gonna wing it. To hell with Fury's extraction packet. "Are you the one I'm looking for?"

Percy stares at him shell-shocked. "Bruce…? What? I'm just a normal teenage boy! And I don't know what you're talking about."

Then Bruce is pressing a photograph into Percy's hand, the one that isn't holding the sword limply. Percy looks at it weakly.

"Yes, Bruce. It's kind of classified information, but… Well, most people recognize me as the Hulk."

And then Percy is backing away, not because he's scared, but because this is too much for him. Finding out the Hulk has been teaching you how to balance chemical equations, that you basically spilled your life story right into his hands, that he's been sent to find you.

It's enough to put anyone's head in a twist.

Can't he ever be left alone, to live his life in peace?

"Please." Bruce says, carefully. "I want to talk. Are you the one in that picture?"

Percy hisses at him. "I won't tell you anything! I'm not a threat, I'm safe."

"There's a worldwide manhunt going on, and you're convinced you're safe? The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division narrowed the search down to Goode High School in a matter of days. Want to find out how close the rest of the government is? I assure you, they won't be willing to try the friendly approach."

The teenager stops, intrigued. He's being sought out by the government? But why the Avengers? And why is this Strategy Home and Institution, Easter something or other, not working with the rest of the government? "Why did they send you?" He asks, slowly.

Bruce stares at him, in an 'I think you already know the answer to that one' way.

He does.

**A/N (Con'd): Shorter than the first chapter, but I personally really liked the conversation between Percy and Bruce in the classroom. I love writing Percy as an awkward teenager!**

**Also, thank you all so much – AGAIN! It means the world to me to see words of encouragement, and all those people who actually care enough to follow this or favorite it. So I love you all.**

**Also, this has been written so quickly because I was just so motivated by your response to the first chapter that I just had to give you this ASAP, so EARLY HAPPY NEW YEAR, and thanks very much.**

**As for an estimate as to how long this will be, I never actually planned anything out, but I am 95% positive that it will not be longer than five chapters, and most likely under 15,000 words. Still, I am very excited to see how you guys react to this, considering that it is, in fact, my very first multi-chapter fanfiction!**

**So please, please, drop me a review, even if it's just a smiley face. Feedback equals frequent updates!**

**tPToC**


	3. Tony's Aquatic Stroll

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**A/N: You guys sure know how to spoil a girl. I am so ecstatic that you like it. Oh, and the dialogue lines in the summary pop up here! EEEEE!**

**I suppose you should know that it is 12:18 a.m. on 12.31.13, I am extremely exhausted, and my vision is blurry, and this will probably turn out to be pure crap, yet I am already writing this because I was so moved by the response I got within mere hours of posting 'Percy's Magic Ruler'. (And because I seriously am in love with this plot. [Does that sound vain?]) Give thanks!**

Percy steers clear of Bruce for a while, which he figured would happen. It's not every day you discover that your science teacher beat up a Norse god half a year ago and is on a mission that had quite a lot to do with you. So in return, Bruce he gives him a wide berth for a while, just to let him get used to the idea.

It's a good idea too, seeing as Bruce values his mental health.

Contact is kept to a minimum in class, which Percy is silently thankful for. Of course, he figures it's just a matter of time before the real fun begins.

-O-

The real fun entails another fight in the schoolyard with a guy on the football team, named Martin Spade. Although missing the chipped front tooth, and being rather tall and stocky, the guy could be a brother to Matt Sloan, same initials and everything. Obviously, it only makes Percy dislike him more, because on top of picking on some new Scottish transfer student, he reminds the demigod of his seventh grade bully.

So _maybe_ Bruce finds him with a fist twisted up in the neckline of that ridiculously tight Abercrombie shirt of Martin's, telling him he'd better buzz off if he knows what's good for him, that poor terrified girl he was picking on clutching her books and trembling. And maybe the complimentary black eye and bloody nose is his fault too.

Don't give him that look.

The jerk was asking for it.

That doesn't stop Bruce from promptly handing Martin a detention slip, making sure the harassed girl gets to the nurse in one piece, and leading Percy back to room 412.

"C'mon Mr. Per-" At the look the doctor shoots Percy, he amends, "Bruce – He was picking on her. You saw that. I told him to stop, and he started whaling on me. I think my actions could be filed under self-defense."

Bruce looks at him from over his glasses, then sighs, turns around, and begins digging through the mess in his cabinets, looking, once again, for the First-aid kit.

Déjà vu…

"Oh, it's not Mr. Spade I'm concerned with. It's that you haven't answered my question yet." He says. When he had stumbled across Percy in that alley, he had given him a choice: either come with him to the Avengers Tower, so neither of them have to go through the stress that is 'The Extraction', or Percy can have him call SHIELD to come and pick them up. Percy knows good and well by this point that SHIELD would have him in their clutches before long. They're cocky about their reputation like that.

Percy sets his jaw stubbornly.

Bruce sighs, and suddenly wishes he could just stop and meditate, because all of this stress cannot be good for his anger… issues.

"You're going to end up in their clutches either way you play the game. Might as well go with your head held high."

"I don't want to be part of a government organization. I'm not a danger to people."

"I think that sword is enough argument that you could be. People are still harping on Tony about the Iron Man suit."

Percy looks away. "I have rights… I don't know, I never really read the Constitution or the Bill of Rights."

Okay, it was kind of immature of Bruce to laugh. Sue him. "You're forgetting that this is probably the most secretive, manipulative branch of the government. They're not above framing you, kidnapping you, faking your death."

"_What?!"_

"You have parents. How do you think they'd feel if you suddenly went missing off the face of the earth?"

He blurts it out before he can think. "They're used to iiiii… Uhhh… Upset?"

"What? What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? It sounded like you were saying that they're used to you disappearing without warning."

"It's nothing. It's because I'm always going on unscheduled trips for my dad's side of the family."

That is a blatant lie, but Bruce bites back his suspicion. It would do him no good to further anger the kid with the collapsible sword. He instead opens his mouth to ask him again, what's it gonna be, because SHIELD doesn't like waiting for what they want… kind of like Tony Stark. And then Percy has to look out the window in an attempt to avoid Bruce's strong gaze, go bug-eyed, and run out the room, hastily calling a quick, "Sorry!" over his shoulder.

But nothing's out there. Just a person running like a maniac.

Oh.

-O-

The disgruntled doctor tails the frenzied teen across the entire city. Percy runs like a madman, knocking down hot dog carts, plowing through flower bushes, leaving muddy tracks down the already grimy sidewalks.

Even better, up on the top of an apartment complex is a hidden SHIELD sniper, launching a whole fleet of tranquilizing darts at the 'threat'. They miss every time, but

Bruce tries to remain under the radar, unlike those idiotic agents, but of course he's never lucky enough to have that go his way. The boy skids to a harried stop in an abandoned section of a random park, and looks around him anxiously.

Then he throws up a hand.

For a second, Bruce stands there in a perfect _WTF?_ pose, staring confusedly around him. Percy has already begun running off again, but when Bruce makes a move to follow him, a white wall of churning water erupts from seemingly nowhere, and sends the already stressed doctor flying backwards nearly twenty feet.

Apparently, Hulk does _not_ like water. At all.

-O-

Tony looks at Bruce, at the devastated expression on his face as the doctor – because there is_ yet again _something in his chair (a pile of junk from the lab this time) – slumps down on the sofa hours after shaking off the monster. And then the billionaire has to go and make one of his famous reckless decisions.

"_SHIELD_ may have scared him off," He states dramatically, because there is a limited amount of settings on Tony Stark's speech, and that 'Dramatic' is the most bearable one. "But I bet _Iron Man_ would get a pretty good rise out of him, don'tcha think?"

There is a flurry of polished gold-titanium alloy flying past Bruce, and then Mark XV is connecting itself to Tony's wrists and ankles, and wrapping rhythmically around his torso and legs.

One of the Tower's many windows slides open automatically via JARVIS, and Tony shoots Bruce a cocky grin before snapping the faceplate shut. "Don't worry. I'll make the kid see sense." And then he is off, flying away like a gaudy rocket, and Bruce can only watch from that damned sofa of Tony's. He laughs wearily, and lets his head fall back. This is a nap well-earned.

-O-

In Tony's defense, it's not called stalking if the kid is as easy to find as it is to distinguish a fart in church. Seriously kid… How hard is it to follow a path of destruction through a typically (ahem, clean?) city?

Jeez, kid's as noticeable as a whirlwind. Tony trails after Percy for dozens of miles, until he's standing on a deserted stretch of Long Island. There are footprints leading into the waves lapping angrily at the shore. He recalls Bruce saying something about water, and Percy, and Tony's suit has an airlock, so he wades into the salty ocean, feeling incredibly stupid as a family of four stares at him incredulously from further down the beach.

He figures he must have walked, down and down even more, for at least twenty minutes, despite the extremely slow progress he's made. He comes to a stop roughly a half dozen feet away from a figure sitting cross legged on the sand, watching the glowing slits of Iron Man's eyes sluggishly grow closer.

"Hey." Tony waves, kind of awkwardly, because he's never been good with children before, and this boy is here, breathing even, like it's the most normal thing in the world to be totally submerged, 48 feet under the water – according to JARVIS – sitting and staring at Iron Man as he approaches you.

Finally, the boy relieves Tony from making him squirm. "Hi." He responds shortly, rubbing a hand back and forth across the back of his neck like he's got a weary ache there. Tony warily eyes the sword lying next to Percy's right knee. "So are you here to shoot at me too?"

Tony scoffs sarcastically. "Oh no. I haven't really dealt with guns since I gave up designing weapons for the military. Repulsor technology is much more my style." He grins, although Percy can't see anything other than a gold glaring faceplate. "Plus," He adds cheekily, "They can singe the flesh right off a person's body."

Surprisingly, Percy laughs.

Of course, it only eggs Tony on. "I get this reaction a lot. Say you come with me, and I'll let you post a photo of me and you on your MySpace page. Peace signs and all. How's that?"

The boy doesn't respond for a moment, not until the moment Tony set up with his joke has dissipated like… Well, like steam.

Then, "What do you people want with me?" He says, eyes clear and genuinely curious. Tony hasn't been asked this question a lot, because normally targets know that they've got skills and it's either join SHIELD or be turned over to the full extent of the law. The government doesn't go easy on people who are out to harm them.

He responds with a question of his own. "What are you?"

Percy eyeballs him, frustrated. "Why does it matter?"

"Well, if you were bitten by like, a radioactive shark, SHIELD would want to do tests, maybe hunt down that shark, if it's not already dead of course. If you were-"

"I get the gist of it." He stares off past Tony, into a nearby murky trench, eyebrows arched and eyes narrowed. "Iron Man is cool, I guess, saving the world and all that. But you have to _earn_ my trust personally."

Tony has to bite his tongue to not demand what exactly, he is, what his powers allow him to do, was he born this way, and can he look at that sword of his sometime.

Instead, he mumbles, "Oh." I guess you can say that Tony Stark isn't used to being refused what he wants.

"Yeah."

"So will you come with us to SHIELD? Bruce wasn't kidding, they'll send in an army to knock you out and drag you there against your will. They've probably got an entire fleet of submarines… somewhere."

Percy locks his jaw stubbornly. "Let them come."

Tony stares at him, unmoving, arms crossed, silently strangling the boy in his mind. "SHIELD has tranq guns, big sticks, and a lot of agents who have no humor. And the interrogation rooms are really cold." He pauses. "And the coffee is really crappy there. It's like, not even lukewarm, just room temperature."

There is no response.

"Kid, why won't you just save yourself a lot of trouble and just come with me- "

Percy shoots to his feet, angrily almost. "Because I don't want to be in SHIELD! Because these people are assassins, and I'm sixteen! Because superheroes are cool and all, but it sucks to be one!

"_I'm a normal kid!_ SO LET ME BE ONE FOR ONCE, _WITHOUT_ HAVING TO WORRY ABOUT BIG ORGANIZATIONS LIKE _YOU!"_

Tony holds up his hands slowly, in that universal surrender gesture. (Of course, he figures in the back of his mind that it doesn't work for Iron Man, considering those repulsors he was gushing over are right there, already aimed, when his hands are up like that. Silently, he tells his brain to shut the hell up.)

I guess people can also say Tony Stark sucks at sympathizing.

"You're a normal kid? Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean? Or are you just taking a nice swim? Normal kids can't breathe underwater, or wield swords like they've been training with the Romans, and normal kids definitely cannot move water with their minds."

Yes, Tony Stark definitely sucks at it.

And yet, it seems to shock some sense into the distraught [mutant?], because he stands angrily and tells Tony that the second they piss him off, he's leaving, SHIELD be damned to Hades.

And that, my dear readers, is the first clue.

**A/N: As usual, I am once again thanking you for your support, because – and this sounds really cheesy – I really feel like I can't even begin to explain how great it is to read your opinions on my work. Obviously those who also write know what I'm talking about, so it means a lot that you think this is worth that. Love you all so much!**

**And, **_**MY FIRST DEDICATION**_**, if you don't count the obvious one going out to anybody who did any of the FFR (favorite, follow, review), to Erun1, whom I completely agree with, Percy shows off his powers waaaay too much. (You little braggart, Percy, you. Of course, I love drama more than anything, like big reveals and Percy and that wave make me extremely happy. So they know he has powers, but he won't use them unless necessary, and he's obviously hesitant to trust these people. [Chiron has taught you well, young grasshopper.]) I love fresh ideas and plot twists like her's. THANKS!**

**(Also, A DEDICATION [ooooh!] to anyone and everyone who gets the cameo I put in here. [No, not the Iron Man 1 one. The other one.] Name of the person who originally said it, the book [and series if it's part of one] it came from, and author of book. [And the situation if you want to be a show-off like Percy ;)] Y'all can do it!)**

**And lastly, I may have lied… I can now see this **_**possibly**_** extending to six or seven chapters, but hey! Good news, right? More for you to read, and more happiness for me!**


	4. Peter's Eyepatch

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**A/N: To Guest- Yeah… I realized that right after I posted Chapter 2 – Thing is, I would have gone back to change it if I could have figured out a way to do the whole bonding thing without Bruce patching him up (cause I just totally thought of Chiron while saying that, and it's all fatherly and stuff).**

**The only other thing is, I have a bit planned for Percy where the Curse of Achilles comes into play… So congrats! You found a plot hole! I try to keep those to a minimum, but obviously everybody has them at one time or another.**

_::to my RL BFF, _**DrOpS-of-JuPiTeR99**_, because I realized just now that I published Hell to Pay on her freaking birthday, and I said NOTHING. (Two months and several weeks late… Booyah!)_

_And I guess _**hp0123**_, because I use him as a beta on occasion… and also kind of because he's my _OTHER_ RL BFF (That's right, I have _TWO WHOLE FRIENDS!_)::_

Peter looks up to a tapping on the door of his room – er, make that apartment. Once an orphan, now technically the adopted son of Captain America, Spiderman when the need arises, he's still a teenager, which entails privacy and lots of food and expensive things, courtesy of one Tony Stark. As of now, he's addicted to a website that basically idolizes the Avengers. He finds looking at pictures of terrible tattoos of Tony's face and Steve's shield incredibly humorous.

Also as of now, somebody is knocking away at Peter's locked door, which he keeps around for reassurance purposes, forget that any of the Avengers is able to bust open the door jamb if need arise. On most occasions though, the lock is just a cause of extreme annoyance to any and all superheroes attempting to talk to him.

"What is it?" He hollers, hastily clearing his history (a search for Avengers fan art on Google Images, that Avengers fan page, a Wikipedia article on Spiderman, the Masked Vigilante, and several trips to some peculiar site called ' '.) and closing the browser.

He has just slammed the screen of the laptop down when a masculine voice calls back, "Fury wants us on base. Says there's something we have to do." Clint. Peter responds with an exasperated agreement, tosses the computer onto his bed, and snags a hoodie from the doorknob of his closet.

Outside his room, the archer tells him to hurry the hell up, because he's getting impatient and Bruce is acting all weird for some reason. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Put an arrow in it!"

Hurried fingers turn the lock and the door swings open, and Clint is standing there, bouncing up and down like the child he is. "Took you long enough? What are you looking at, tucked away in there?" Peter shoves past him, and strides pointedly towards the lounge.

"Waiting on you now!"

The agent barks out a rough laugh and jogs to catch up with the flustered teen.

-O-

"Wow, this sucks big time." Clint states, staring dejectedly around him at the boring meeting room the Avengers are locked up in. Bruce is missing, and both Tony and Steve are absent as well, but Natasha drum her fingers rhythmically against the glass top of the conference table, and Peter absentmindedly fiddles with a twisted beyond repair paperclip that's probably been in his jeans pocket since before the transformation. Thor's massive shoulders extend past the overly padded cushions of the chairs provided. He sits obediently, albeit frowning, arms crossed in boredom.

In addition to the troupe of superheroes SHIELD's gathered, Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Erik Selvig also occupy several of the seats pushed up against the glass table. Pepper, Peter can understand. Jane, seeing as Thor pretty much tells her everything anyways, maybe. But Selvig and Darcy? Really?

Natasha snorts, an amused expression dancing lightly across her face for a moment before returning to its set in stone, no emotions grimace. "Tell me about it." She agrees lowly. Clint casts a glance over at Darcy, who's delighted herself with taking selfies while trying to capture the Avengers in the background. Every so often, she mutters a delighted "Facebook!" and snaps one where somebody is making a particularly comical face.

Peter turns his head slightly when Darcy points the camera his way. He waits for the telltale click of the device to let him know it's safe to look back, but there is nothing. Cautiously, he tilts his head towards the young intern.

"Who are you?" She asks, and damn, there goes any hope for avoiding unnecessary questions. Now there are three curious gazes on Peter. "Some sort of SHIELD agent? Tony and Pepper's love child?" The CEO of Stark Industries splutters, humiliated, and declares that she will be waiting in the hallway.

Clint can barely hold in the laughter until the door swings shut behind her.

"I'm, ah…" Peter trails off awkwardly, at a loss for words. Don't tell them, and wait for Thor to spill the beans in private, or tell them and face any awkward feelings?

"Why, Peter here is the Man of Spiders, no?" He laughs, before leaning over to whisper to the three scientists. "But be not mistaken, my dear friends, he is not related to the Widow in Black."

Well there goes any question on the matter.

"But he's a teenager!" Jane exclaims, indignant that SHIELD is letting someone that young go out and fight.

Peter shrugs, very awkwardly, and silently prays that the door will open, and one of the missing Avengers, or perhaps Fury or Hill, will save him from this very uncomfortable situation.

No such thing happens, and not for the last time, Peter curses his superpowers.

"My uncle liked to nag me that with great power comes great responsibility. Plus… well, once you have powers, what use are they if the only thing you do with them is use them to pull the TV remote from the coffee table to your spot on the sofa? Half the time, I accidentally hit myself in the face with it." To demonstrate, he shoots a web at the tin of pens sitting next to the director's chair at the head of the table. The cup makes a nice dull _thwack_ when it makes contact with his skull, like a rock knocking against a hollow wall. "Slightly embarrassing, but see?"

Darcy, Clint and Natasha snicker, and Thor booms a laugh not unlike thunder, but Jane and Erik look uncomfortable with the display of webs, because suddenly they're shifting impatiently in their chairs, looking for all the world like they'd rather be anywhere else, even if his abilities are a scientist's dream to study.

Peter sighs internally, disappointed that three more people know his secret. Ah well. Life is life.

-O-

"Director Fury, sir. I don't think you quite understand the situation. This boy –"

"Percy!" Tony inputs from across the room.

"Yes, Percy, thank you Tony – he's done nothing wrong technically. So he was photographed holding a sword. There's no evidence that he's ever actually used it on anybody innocent. I don't believe SHIELD has the right to go kidnapping juniors and forcing them into the position of Avenger." Steve Rogers crosses his arms over his chest.

Director Nick Fury mimics the pose. "Captain, it's not really up to you, is it? The boy's dangerous. He's got powers no one on this earth has ever heard of before. Both Dr. Richards and Professor X have confirmed that. He took out half a park with a wave of his hand. What's to say he won't turn these powers on us? On the world?"

"For another thing, Director, I don't want a teenager being forced onto my team."

"Yet you let Spiderman in on it."

"That's different. He was already fighting crime before we got to him. And now, it's technically legal. We haven't caught so much of a whiff of this boy – _Yes_, Tony, _I know_ his name is Percy – before the Manhattan Blackout. He obviously doesn't want this."

"Right now, he doesn't have a lot of say in the matter."

"The hell he doesn't! The kid's – _Tony!_ – seventeen years old! He isn't even an adult yet!"

Tony watches the exchange with glee. Captain Oh-So-Mighty is normally one of the only team members who backs Fury up. And now he's downright disagreeing with him.

"If I may interrupt your catfight, ladies," Tony says, peering over his shoulder into the glass containment room – one that doesn't drop twenty thousand feet if something gets a little damaged – at the figure inside. Jeez. The kid is hunched over, staring at the floor like it's the most interesting television show they have on these days. Bruce can be seen kneeling next to him, mouth moving, and Percy's head bobbing slightly to indicate that he is still pretending to listen. "Could I try for a blood sample? Mutations, radioactive poisoning, traces of the Hudson in the DNA – that stuff is bound to show up in the tests."

Fury, who glares at Tony for the smart remark, gives the hopeful billionaire a curt nod. Steve shoots the pair of them a displeased glare.

"Director – Stark – I think the last thing Percy needs is someone jabbing needles under his skin. He made his terms very clear – I think we should honor them. That way, there's less chance of someone getting hurt."

"So now you're admitting the kid is dangerous? Weren't you just telling me he's nothing but rainbows and sunshine?"

"Weren't you the one who was just nagging me, saying his name is Percy?"

"…Touché…"

"If you two women –"

"Hey! That was my insult first!"

"Are finished here, I'd like to get the results on that blood test on my desk in an hour, tops. Got it Stark?"

"Yeah, yeah, no slacking off, don't try to poison the kid to see what happens – that was one time, now everybody goes all batshit crazy when I'm supposed to be running the tests. Jesus."

Fury shoots one last glare at Tony with his one good eye, and turns to leave, most likely to frighten some of the Level two clearance recruits.

"Wanna help, Cap?" Tony asks, shooting a hopeful glance over at the captain. "I promise to play nice."

Steve shakes his head. The hallway leading to the team is the right branch, two lefts after that, then a staircase up, and then a left, right, right, straight, left, in that order. Room 404 on the right side of the corridor. He jerks a thumb behind him in that direction. "Nah. I figure I'll go check out how the team is doing. Clint and Peter are bound to have gone crazy by now, and I'll bet anything that Thor has done something to disrupt the weather somewhere."

"You sure you remember how to get there?"

Steve tells him, then turns on his heel and he's off.

"Son of a bitch." Tony says to an empty room.

-O-

"Percy, for the record, I am sorry you're being dragged into this." Bruce says, shining an apple on his shirt. Percy bobs his head, but refuses to make eye contact with the doctor. The man sighs and hands over the fruit.

Percy takes a tentative bite.

The silence is upsetting to say the least. Isn't this kid supposed to have ADHD, always moving around, needing to do something constantly? So why does he look like someone killed his puppy?

Percy puts the apple down on the bed beside him with a slight huff of a breath.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asks. But the teenager's mind is a million miles away. What Bruce doesn't know is that he's dreaming of a salt-and-pepper haired man in a tracksuit, with a caduceus and two entwined snakes.

"_Percy, Zeus too happy to hear that the Hero of Olympus is now working with the U.S. government." Hermes tells him, rifling through his bag with disgust. "I cannot find that stupid –"_

"_I can't help it now. There isn't enough Mist between all the gods to make the mortals forget now. I talked to my father in the ocean. He said it's best to ride out the tension… But he's always trying to relate his advice to the sea, so I don't know how helpful his advice is when he does that." Percy scowls and rubs one hand furiously back and forth along the length of his calf, just to keep moving._

"_Right, your father. I have something here from him, said to give it to you because –" Hermes is cut off by someone else's voice._

"Percy! Just the poor imprisoned teenage gladiator I wanted to see." Tony Stark is in the room with him and Bruce now, although the doctor is shooting the man glares over Percy's shoulder. "Listen, would you mind if we took a little blood sample, just to make sure you're in working order –"

Automatically, Percy moves to curl in on himself, because half of his DNA is basically non-existent, and also because his skin is basically freaking iron. "No can do, come back another time." He stutters nervously.

"Afraid of a needle?" Tony jokes.

Unabashed, with the trace of the infuriating smirk that absolutely drives Thalia insane, he retorts, "I am when a mental patient is handling them." And then he remembers that he's not supposed to be getting along with these people, he's supposed to be waiting until SHIELD screws up so he can leave like he promised he will, and he automatically retreats back into his shell.

"Aw, come on! I was only messed up as a kid!" Seeing the look of disbelief Bruce sends him, he amends begrudgingly, "And most of my teenage and adulthood. But I assure you, I'm feeling completely sane today!"

When Percy uncurls a bit to laugh at the mad-scientist expression on Tony's face, the billionaire makes a lunge for his unprotected arm.

His aim was spot-on for once.

He had the perfect opportunity.

The kid's arm was even straight.

And then the needle shatters against what looks to be, feels like, and acts like human flesh.

Neither Tony nor Bruce ever saw this one coming. Waves sure. Actual invincibility is a different matter altogether.

-O-

It takes the amount of time from when Steve has just been corrected on Percy's name for the second time to when he opens the door of the conference room, already prepared for the worst, for the shit to totally hit the fan.

He stumbles upon Pepper first, who sits at the end of the passage, her head in her hands, muttering things to herself about Tasers and her opinion on where a certain political science intern can shove her's. After checking to make sure this isn't the second CEO of Stark Industries to go completely mental, Steve wishes her tentative luck on the form of revenge she has planned, and continues down the hall for the room Director Fury called him and the two resident superhero geniuses out of nearly half an hour ago.

"What in the Lord's name are you doing?" Steve yells. Stunned into a statue-like silence, the only movement made is the flight of a mutilated paperclip to go flying past the supersoldier's head and imbed itself a few centimeters deep into the wood paneling of the doorway. Natasha, the only person other than Clint with the aim and power to pull that off, seeing as Clint is swinging upside down from the vent in the corner of the room, looks on innocently.

Peter looks completely at home in Director Fury's chair, his sneakers smudging the glass of the table, hands locked behind his head. There is even a crudely made eye patch covering his right eye. There have even been scars drawn in using the back-up liquid eyeliner Jane keeps in her back pocket. His shocked expression is laughable; Darcy's phone gives off an extremely audible click.

Erik is absent from the room; it's incredibly likely that he snuck off to hide in one of the bathrooms the second things started to escalate. Jane and Thor are suspiciously absent as well, as there are many abandoned closets littering the halls of the helicarrier.

"Hey Cap! So what's up with Fury?" Clint drops from the vent, his boots echoing dully a few decks below them. There is a distant shout from one of the agents a floor below them, who is apparently trying to _'GET SOME GODDAMN WORK DONE'_, so help him. Peter looks at his adopted father with an interested expression on his face, willing him to spill the beans. Before Steve says anything though, he shoves Pete's Chucks off of the expensive glass conference table, sits an overly excitable Darcy back in her chair, and shoots Natasha a warning look.

Peter whines. "Okay, you've set us right, now tell ussssssss! _I'm boooorrrreeeedddd!"_

Clint shoots a rubber band at the bridge of the petulant teen's nose. Spider-like reflexes kick in, and Peter dodges it with a dirty look shot at Clint.

"Settle down." Steve ushers. "There's a… a new recruit."

And Steve thought that the shit had hit the fan before.

**A/N: Also, before I forget, Erun1 **_**again**_**. Let us all just take a moment to appreciate people like this…**

**Ahh… That was refreshing.**

**So I of course wanted to say thank you for all of your amazingness. If this story were to hit, say… 40 reviews, 70 favorites and 100 follows, I will… be extremely happy…? I dunno. Thank you guys!**

**Reviews make me barf rainbows!**

**Just kidding.**

**Hahahahahahahaha! I got you there, didn't I?**

**No…? Didn't think so.**

**Have a nice day… er, early morning!**


	5. Chiron's Fatherly Side

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**I am crying, I swear I am, because I love you all so much. Here I am, lil' ole me, and there are 136 follows, 86 favorites and 44 reviews for only **_**four chapters**_**, and **_**counting**_**. I'm somewhat of a Plain Jane in my school, at least in comparison to the popular kids, and you come and give me this heart-warming response. It's like I'm the Beach family after Hurricane Ike, and EMHE (Extreme Makeover Home Edition) has showed up and promised me a new house.**

**[Love that episode. I rewatched it – for like the tenth time since it aired – today.]**

**You mean that much to me. I love y'all. There are no words for my love of you guys.**

**To** Saraarena _**– Leo is indeed amazing, but I don't have plans for the HoO characters in this story. To be honest, I kind of hate every one of the characters in HoO except for Leo, so… Maybe a cameo?**_

_**I try to make dialogue distinguishable by what's being said and the tone it's being said in. ie, Fury always addresses Tony as 'Stark', and he's pretty bossy, so Steve's lines are fairly clear from there. I can mark characters though, if it makes a lot of people uncomfortable.**_

_**As for the Thor-VS-Percy situation, well, we'll just have to see. I can definitely tell you that Thor knows something about this mysterious hero, simply because Heimdall is all-seeing, but how much… Well, I must have some fun, right?**_

_**And lastly, thank you so much for your extensive review. I love answering questions, I just hate asking them.**_

**To **Kale** – **_**I can't find an**_** '**Anaklusmos21**'. **_**There is an**_** '**Anaklusmos1'_**and an**_** '**Anaklusmos2021'_**,**__**so… Pop by with another review telling me which one you are and I will gladly indulge you with some of the trade secrets of writing!**_

**To **Erun1** – **_**I am personally looking forward to Fury's furious-ness! (*Dies laughing*) As for the problem with the Mist, well, we'll just have to wait and see, right? And I have to respectfully disagree with you. I personally love Percy Jackson: Anarchy, and Percy Jackson: Disassembled, both by Yellow-Spider. Just check out that author in general, she/he is amazing.**_

**And that is all, my lovelies. You are the nicest readers I could ever ask for.**

**So I'll shut up now and you can start reading.**

**Sorry about the long A/N.**

It's nice outside, with a warm sun and a cool breeze sweeping through the fields. The sunrise has just begun, and the younger campers, and those who wake up on a schedule, bustle quietly from their cabins to catch the warm rays of pink and orange.

A girl emerges from one cabin, hair tied up, and skips to the strawberry fields. A horde of both boys and girls pour from the small doorway of Cabin Eleven, laughing so hard they have to rest their hands on their knees to catch their breath. Several cabins down the row, a small army of bulky teens led by a fuming girl march at the laughing campers, coated in cheap pink feathers and enough glitter to keep a craft store in supply for a year.

A mass of blonde headed, blue eyed kids run for the basketball and volleyball courts. Goat-legged teens run behind them, hoping to squeeze in a good game before the conch blows for breakfast.

There is even a group of all girls strutting around the archery range, dressed in silver parkas and black boots. One little girl who looks to be only seven or eight shoots a bullseye from thirty yards, and whoops happily, while the other girls around her cheer and slap her playfully on the back.

Chiron watches the Camp itself wake up, the Naiads and the tree Nymphs poking their heads out to feel the warm air on their faces. The strawberry plants begin to grow, seemingly before one's eyes. Even the lake seems to glisten in the early morning sunshine.

Springtime is always Chiron's favorite part of the school year. There are more campers here than those present in winter, but there isn't the crowd of summertime, when almost all demigods return. Apollo is always the kindest during the spring, and Persephone is in a good mood, and Demeter even smiles more often than normal.

Hades is slightly sourer, but Hades is always sour, and Zeus is slightly less strict, and since Zeus is always strict this is a miracle. Which leads Chiron to the conclusion that spring is some kind of miracle worker.

So what is the bad feeling he has in the pit of his stomach, the rolling he gets when he thinks about the lake and the ocean? What is happening?

Nervously, Chiron rolls his wheelchair inside, the saggy floorboards creaking under the large wheels. In the sitting room of the Big House, draped on a sofa, Mr. D. is snoring, fast asleep. Springtime wears him out – a blessing for the campers.

Chiron wheedles past him slowly, so as not to wake the temperamental god of wine, and ducks under Seymour, a stuffed leopard's head who is growling for Snausages at the moment. He wheels into the large kitchen, and rolls out the doorway on the other side of the room.

The ancient teacher's office is obviously on the first story of the four floor, gigantic cyan mansion. To reach it, you have to pass nearly every single room there is to be found on the level: to name a few, the filing room, for when they have to take their strawberries out to earn some extra money for quests; the confiscation room (made specifically for Connor and Travis's pranks after they've been utilized); and the entire medical bay (which has a total of eight rooms – five of these rooms are occupied). Chiron finally rolls makes it to his door – he has his hand on the doorknob – when a loud moan and a panicked cry comes from one of these five rooms.

Needless to say, the immortal trainer of heroes wheels right back around and all but crawls down the hallway to see what might be going wrong with one of the godlings.

"Please, lie still and let me help you!" A son of Apollo, Will Solace actually, leans over a girl on her side. She huddles under a thick cream colored blanket, and shivers roughly. Firey red-orange hair spills onto a pristine white pillow. The demigod healer looks perplexed as to what he is able to do to actually help the girl. The Oracle is a wondrous person, but one of the downsides to the job – no ambrosia or nectar. It kills you.

Rachel E. Dare just curls closer in on herself and shivers again.

Chiron rolls into the room. "Stand aside child. Let me see her." He leans over her, rests a cool hand on her perspiring, warm forehead. "Rachel, can you hear me?"

Rachel gives a small nod and shudders again.

"Why is Rachel in the medical bay?" Chiron asks Will, who turns beet red and stammers out his answer.

"Well, the Hermes kids, and us Apollo guys were horsing around, and we kind of accidentally… trampled her."

"You what?"

That's not a pretty tone of voice.

Will flushes. "We were running around on the beach, and she was kind of… asleep on the sand, and some of the Hermes kids ran over her. I think Connor kicked her in the head."

Chiron sighs, allows himself a very big mental face-palm, a modern expression he's become rather fond of when a scolding just won't cover it, and then drags a real hand down his face, trying to rub away the disappointment that he can just feel filling up all of the wrinkles in his skin. "You… _trampled_… our Oracle?"

"Well, not me. I was here in the hospital, taking care of that satyr who accidentally got hit in the chest with a Hephaestus hammer. But yes, she was trampled."

It sounds like a stupid story, but Chiron doesn't doubt the damage the Hermes and the Apollo kids can cause combined.

"So when did this start?" He asks, looking down at the trembling girl. Will Solace shrugs.

"I just got here."

_Oka–_

Rachel, gasping, emerald eyes wide and fiery hair matted and wild, sits bolt upright, rasping for breath and still shivering violently. Will backs away a half-step. Chiron wheels forward, and attempts to press the back of his hand to her forehead. He can feel the mixed vibes of baking hot but clammy cold on her skin. Serpentine green replaces what was once leafy green irises, and Rachel's voice magnifies.

"_Child of the sea. Save him. Taken by the ones who protect, pursued by the ones who fight. Save him from heroes. SAVE HIM!"_

It's not a prophecy she's billowing in that raspy, serpentine voice, but a warning, or maybe one of the more sinister things from one of Rachel's visions. Will looks like he wants to bail, run out the door, down the lawn and all the way back to cabin number seven, probably to hide out underneath his bunk. Telling the future is cool and all, he knows, Apollo kids will get snippets of it, like what type of yogurt they'll be serving at breakfast in the morning, but glowing, acidic, entirely green eyes and raspy voices sound like something out of a bad horror film.

Meanwhile, Rachel's eyes clear and lighten, the iris reappearing from beneath a cloud of murky emerald smoke, and she coughs feebly, a pale freckled hand rising to cover her mouth. "Chiron? What am I doing here?" She pauses at the expression on Will's face, the stance of him backed against the wall. "And why do you look like you're about to pee yourself?"

Will laughs awkwardly and excuses himself, half humiliated, half indignant, half terrified and half stupid, because four halves don't equal a whole.

Chiron helps to prop her up against the headboard of her cot. "Something about an incident with the Hermes and Apollo cabins, I believe. The more important question, though, is what were you dreaming about just then?"

She flushes red. "Percy – not like that, Annabeth would kill me – he was… sitting in some kind of examination room. And I think Iron Man was there, except… he wasn't wearing that big suit, he was just –"

"Tony Stark." Chiron inputs helpfully.

"Right, Tony Stark walked in, and I couldn't hear anything, but there was another guy there too. They were talking to Percy, right, and Tony had a needle – like, a syringe – and Percy started laughing, and then they tried to take his blood, but…" Rachel trailed off awkwardly.

Chiron has a moment of dawning realization. "But due to the Mark of Achilles being in place, the needle either shattered or ricocheted off his skin entirely, immediately alerting them to… Oh dear."

Rachel swallows. "It shattered. Tiny shards went flying all over."

"I expected nothing less. What I wish to know is why Percy is with Iron Man of all people in the first place. Unless he's captured him, which could only lead to one ultimate goal, which is to… Well, we'll worry about that later. For now, I think we had best contact Mrs. Jackson and Mr. Blofis, to inform them on the current situation. I think… Yes, Iris Message should do." Chiron presses a golden drachma into Rachel's palm. "Would you kindly collect Grover from the forest, and then the two of you can then proceed to inform Percy's parents of his situation?"

Rachel swallows again, but slowly begins to rise, sliding her legs out from underneath the fleece blankets and standing. "You're not doing it?" She asks cautiously.

Chiron laughs. There is a moment where his humor echoes around the room, and they stare at each other. "Oh, no. I have other businesses to take care of. Plus, I do believe Mrs. Jackson could see a friendly face."

Rachel nods half-heartedly. "Right."

Chiron sends her a smile, pushes the wheels of his mobile chair into action, and rolls out the open doorway.

-O-

Sally Jackson looks up to the door of the apartment opening. Paul is behind it, wearing a smile thinly masking some other kind of emotion. Is that worry?

"Paul, dear," Sally begins, rising to take his coat while Paul puts down his bag with a hollow thud. "How was your day?" She looks around. "And where's Percy?"

Paul immediately becomes alarmed. "You mean he's not here?" He asks nervously. At the slow shake of Sally's head, he wrings his hands. "I couldn't find him. I figured he got tired of waiting and just walked back here. Then on the way, I passed some old park, not used much anymore… Completely flooded. Water everywhere, and a trail of footprints going right through all of it. It was completely surrounded in police cars. I asked around, talked to some of the officers. You know those superheroes or whatever – the Avengers, I think – turns out the big green one, the Hulk, was there, smashing stuff, about an hour ago. That thing is a goliath, tramples everything in his path. I was in Harlem two years ago. It made a wreck out of the place."

Paul rubs his hands nervously together. Sally places her own over his and smiles calmly, although she is trying to push down the growing stem of fear blossoming in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sure he's fine. Have a cup of coffee and try not to worry. Percy always comes back in one piece." She coaxes him out of his jacket and onto the couch. The remote to the television, a rare species considering it's normally missing, is placed into one of his hands and his tight fingers are curled over it by someone else. Sally gives him a 'you stay there' look, and declares that she's going to brew him a cup of coffee.

Paul tries to relax.

It's just kind of hard to do that when there are half a dozen news stations filming at the flooded park.

It's even harder to relax when one of the newscasters declares that the Hulk simply, "trampled anything and everything, and then some", and then cut to a scene of huge fist indents in the ground.

And it is nearly impossible to relax when an IM pops up in the living room, right in front of the TV, and a grim Rachel Elizabeth Dare, one of Paul's former students, and Grover Underwood, a boy Percy has said is his best friend, and also a satyr, stare out at him with grim and nervous expressions.

"Rachel, Grover!" Sally says, coming back into the room with a blue mug in hand billowing small clouds of steam. "How nice to see you dears! How are you?"

Paul has different questions for the redhead. "You're a demigod too?" He balked.

"Oh no, Mr. Blofis. I'm mortal, like you and Sally. But the camp uses me as an Oracle."

Paul's face is blank – no bells are ringing up there.

"I tell the future."

"Oh." He states. "Then why are you calling?"

Rachel blushes tomato red. Grover stares at a point behind the mist creating the IM, where, unknown to Mr. Blofis and Mrs. Jackson, a bulletin board displays proud pictures of the more memorable demigods through the millennia Chiron's been teaching. A hand – Sally's – smacks him hard in the shoulder. Immediately his skin begins to throb. For a woman as petite as Sally, she packs a mean swing. "Be nice." She chides under her breath, then passes over the cup to his stressed hands.

"Sorry Rachel, he's a little frazzled. Percy wouldn't happen to be at Camp, would he?"

Paul didn't realize somebody's blush could blush. "Oh – erm – that's why I'm calling. I had a vision… Percy was there…"

"Where is there?" Paul asks automatically, then apologizes and blushes a fair bit himself.

"There is… well, see that's the thing. We don't know. But I saw him in a room, sitting and talking to a tired man in glasses and a t-shirt with a logo of an eagle on it. And then the door opens and… Well, then Tony Stark walks in. And he says something, makes Percy laugh, says something else, Percy laughs again, and then they try to take his blood, except they can't, because… the Mark of Achilles is still affecting him." She stops, staring at them awkwardly. Grover shifts nervously on his fake feet.

Paul's fists are clenching of their own accord. "You mean he's with the Avengers? They're kidnappers now?"

"No. No, I trust them. They saved New York just as well as the demigods did, and there were only six of them. They probably want to talk, run tests… Well, as long as Percy is okay." Paul pretends that he can't hear the way Sally's voice cracks ever-so-slightly on the word 'okay', and Grover and Rachel follow his example.

"Mrs. Jackson, for what it's worth, they looked friendly enough. They had food for him, they looked concerned. I don't think they plan on hurting him." Rachel casts a glance at the photo of Percy Grover is still staring at, tacked to the very center of the bulletin board. "Chiron isn't that concerned. He says there's no use in panicking, since nobody knows where their headquarters are anyways." Grover finally speaks. "I'm going to go look of course, see if I can't sniff him out around the city. But as long as he's with superheroes, we're presuming he's safe."

Sally Jackson nods absentmindedly, her mind already mentally drifting the busy sidewalks of New York, looking for big, nondescript buildings where the Avengers might be holding – sorry, talking to – her only child.

"Thanks." She tells them, trying to look calm.

But Grover knows she isn't, not really, not now.

He's a talented satyr. He can read emotions over IMs too.

-O-

"Dash it all." Hermes declares when his connection with the demigod drops, and he's left calling out to his own vast mind, empty and echoey and dark, most of his consciousness elsewhere, probably delivering mail in the mortal world.

Percy is fine, he believes that much. The Avengers look pretty decent, if you ignore how screwed up they are in the noggin, and anyways, Percy is just as bad. Sixteen years old and the leader of an army. Barely thirteen years old and holding the weight of the sky on his shoulders. Twelve, riding a Minotaur like a rodeo bull, clueless and lost and dead on his feet practically.

No, the safety of Percy Jackson is the farthest thing from his mind.

In reality, Hermes is worried about what his uncle Poseidon wants delivered to Percy via the mind. Nothing tangible, duh, but a warning. Beware the Council. It's funny, Poseidon being so straightforward for once. Or maybe he just thinks these guys are trouble.

Hermes thinks they're trouble. Athena thinks they're trouble. Even Zeus thinks they're trouble.

Because really, come on, how good can four people of undisclosed locations wearing drab suits and grim expressions, with voids where their hearts should be, be?

A nuclear strike on New York City? Tacky. Reckless. Stupid. Deadly.

No really, not even the gods can come out of that unscathed.

And that's saying something.

_Ratsssss,_ a serpentine voice hisses from Hermes's shirt pocket, where two entwined, earthworm sized snakes slither up and down a pen.

_Be quiet. Hermes is thinking_, the other snake, this one female, chides softly.

_I'm hungry_, the first snake replies.

"Quiet." Hermes commands, rubbing wearily at his temples. Poseidon is no doubt going to be furious when Hermes turns up, message having failed to have been delivered. "Ugh. This will put a stain on my 'two millennia, zero mistake' policy." He is weary, a sudden headache caused by being shoved out of the head like only the element of surprise can do.

There's something special about those superheroes.

**A/N: BAD NEWS GUYS – I told you about school, right? How there's so much homework that they're basically drowning us? I am now officially back at it! (Everybody cry together now. A-one, a-two, a-three...) WAAAHHH!**

**I won't be able to see you guys as much anymore… SO I TRIED TO WRITE AN **_**EXTRA**__**GOOD, [somewhat] LONGER chappie**_**, with appearances from some good ole friendly faces, TO MAKE UP FOR WHAT WILL MOST LIKELY BE MY LESS FREQUENT UPDATES. I'm sure you've noticed already.**

**Also, FanFiction has been acting weird as of late. I've been trying to get on to update, and sometimes it will redirect to a screen that says 'Error', and I can't see you, my peoples! It makes me cry – hard.**

**So…**

**No Percy or team happy-times in this chapter, although they will definitely be in the next one! Yay, team fluffies and Percy's and Peter's badass teenage-ness FTW!**

**Also, I particularly loved **Shur'tugalDivergentDemigod**'s ever-so-eloquent review. Made me laugh so hard, because it perfectly sums up chapter 4. Thank you for all dat feedback!**

**tPToC**


	6. Thor's Humiliation

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**A/N: Hold on there, my lovely readers, I'm still around! Again, updating was **_**very**_** difficult. I swear, every single day this week, I have been working from the moment I get home to the moment I go to bed on homework. And to think that it only gets harder as life progresses… Very frustrating. Hope you liked the last chapter. Percy and Peter in this one! HOORAY, immature seventeen year old boy awesomeness!**

"Shattered on impact. Don't make me laugh." Fury keeps his gaze evenly trained on the mound of paperwork stacked upon his desk. Off to the right side, a mound of boring grey folders paper clipped together seems to mock the frustrated, tired, overworked Director.

Tony stares past Fury at a large world map thumbtacked to an even larger bulletin board, one that takes up nearly the entire expanse of the back wall of Fury's office. Color-coded pins are pushed in at various locations, some in the US, others all the way over in Japan and South Africa. Another map, vastly smaller than the one depicting the Earth, covers the bottom left corner of Antarctica. On it is a large, crude tree, with nine circles decorating the branches and trunk. A golden pin is pushed into one of the circles.

"That's right. Nearly needed an arc reactor for my arm, to keep the glass out of my blood vessels. I was lucky that nothing was embedded too deep. Can you imagine how stupid it would look if I went walking around with a glowing circle of light stuck to my wrist. Humiliating! The press would have a field day, and I'd be the idiot walking around with an energy source in my arm."

Fury really wants to kick the billionaire out of his office, have a good six hours of sleep, and then throw the man in the Hulk's cell and drop it down into the ocean.

"Stark –" Fury interrupts. "I could not care less about how hard it would be to operate the suit with an arc reactor stuck to your wrist. I want to know why and how that syringe shattered upon making contact with human – more specifically, this human's – bare skin. If you cannot find out answers for me, then I will not hesitate to bring in Doctor Banner or someone else who can."

"Right, right, don't get your eye patch in a twist. I'll find your information." Tony stands to leave. "But the answer may not be exactly plausible… This kind of thing, well… It only ever happens in myths."

You'd think Fury would care more than he actually does. Which is to say, he shoos Stark out of the office without a second thought.

-O-

"Be careful." Bruce warns Peter carefully. He stares at the thick hydraulic door with some worry. "I don't think he's intentionally dangerous, but you never know."

Peter shrugs off the words of caution. "Anybody who causes pain to Tony is okay in my book." Bruce shoots the young superhero a glare. "Not that I mean that literally." He says in compromise, loudly, so the scientist knows he's bluffing.

"Tony can still take away your computer." Bruce says dutifully.

"Yeah, but then I'm free to roam the city, stopping crime." He responds cheekily. Tony Stark has a thing against Peter going out and beating up muggers and car jackers in nothing but spandex and a cheesy mask. Say what you want about the billionaire, but he does care… Sometimes. Yeah, about his reputation, because Spandex is practically a crime in itself if you have access to billions of dollars via Tony Stark's oversized, bigger-than-his-ego, jam-packed, hinges practically bursting open, numerous bank accounts. Peter makes a _pbbbttt_ noise with his lips and waves a hand flippantly. "I'll be fine. He's – what, he's like the same age as me."

Bruce sets his jaw and swipes his ID. The door hisses open.

It's fairly dark inside the room – ahem, cell – but there's a 100 watt lightbulb swinging down on a stainless steel chain, and there's the one-way mirror on the wall that allows Tony and Bruce to seen in, but keeps this new guy and Peter from seeing out.

Steve outright telling the team that they had a new member was kind of a mistake. Clint's jaw had dropped very dramatically, but everyone could tell he was kind of shocked, which in itself was a miracle because the Hawk isn't swayed by any little old thing. Natasha's demeanor had remained completely the same, but she was obviously at least somewhat startled as well. And Peter… Well, the words new teammate provoked two images, and neither was exactly pleasant: the first was that Tony finally got Pepper pregnant, and the eccentric billionaire was insisting the child would join the team. And then he was imagining a middle-aged man in a stained wife beater and checkered boxers, a towel around his neck and holding a cup of coffee in one hand. And maybe he would have a huge beer gut or something.

His superpower would probably be the ability to consume as much alcohol as he wanted and would never be able to get drunk. Or something like that.

Yech. Talk about bad things.

Thor wasn't present when the news was given, and obviously neither was Jane, Eric, and Pepper had been seething in the hall last Peter remembered, so those were the grand reactions: shock, curiosity, and disgust.

And then Steve had gone on to explain that the recruit's name was Percy Jackson, which stirred up some strange questions. The most popular of them was, _isn't that the name of the kid who was involved in that nationwide manhunt five years ago? And wasn't he twelve when that happened? _SHIELD agents have to know their accused criminals. So the thought to be terrorist who blew a hole in the St. Louis Arch was probably near the top of that list.

Well, then the reactions had changed. Clint's was disbelief, Natasha was pretty much indifferent about all of it, and Peter was thrilled to have a person his age, someone he could relate to, around. And he wouldn't have to worry about Spiderman getting in the way of their awesome friendship, because this kid would have superpowers too.

Throw that middle-aged dude out the window in Tony's penthouse lounge, Peter was all for having a seventeen year old kid on the Avengers.

And now he's standing in front of the kid, who's got a painfully blank face on, like he's trying to think too hard and there should be steam pouring out of his ears.

What does he do? What should he say? Peter isn't cut out for conversing and crap like that. He's basically the textbook definition of awkward and geeky. The kid in front of him reminds of him of Flash: all big muscles, good looks and unfocused eyes.

"Hi."

Peter blinks rapidly, looks down at Percy, who stares back up at him with a raised eyebrow and a look of resigned frustration, and opens his mouth, unsure of what will come tumbling out.

"You blew up the St. Louis Arch?" He asks, then rewards himself for that question by doing the largest mental facepalm ever, because the look Percy Jackson is giving him is not pretty. But then the glare subsides, recedes like a wave on the sand, leaving behind a damp expanse of sand, and he grins a little.

"I did."

"That's awesome!"

"Why thank you. Most people thought I was just something of a juvenile delinquent."

Peter scoffs and waves a flippant hand, something Tony taught him to do all too well. "They got it fixed, right?"

"My point exactly!"

And like that, the two have become friends.

It's less than an hour later when the hydraulic door keeping Percy locked away hisses back, like it malfunctioned or something, and the two sneak out to wreak havoc upon an unsuspecting Erik Selvig, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis.

-O-

Tony sends another holographic set of data whirling away with an angry wave of his hands. Bruce ducks as a Roman myth about Hercules goes flying over his head.

"I don't understand it!" He rages, shoving his face into his hands and pressing them hard against his cheeks. "There's nothing here about a god who appears in the form of a teenager!"

Bruce pushes his glasses down his nose. "How do you know he's a god?" He asks, hesitantly, while Tony fumes over his workspace, slamming down vials and avoiding the acid splashes the impact sends sloshing over the rims at his unprotected skin.

"What else could he be? A mythological monster?"

"No, but…" He sighs. "Why don't you ask Thor? Mythology is kind of his specialty."

Tony brightens instantly, reaching for the telephone in his pocket. It takes him less than a half-minute to bypass the SHIELD systems, and suddenly the phone is dialing the entirety of the SHIELD helicarrier, via the PA systems.

"Would Thor Odinson please report to the labs? I repeat, Thor, separate your face from Jane's and get your butt over here before I set the Hulk on you. Again. Thank you."

Bruce shoots him a look that very clearly says, '_that wasn't necessary_.'

And yet there is still a distinctly smug smirk on his face when Thor walks in, ashamedly rubbing at his lips with one armor-covered arm and glancing around as though someone is watching him.

"What can I do to be of service?"

"Well for starters, I'd like a cheeseburger, and maybe some fries too. Oh yeah. And tell us everything you know about Roman gods."

Thor stops rubbing at his face. "What do you wish to know of the Romans? They are beyond Odin's influence. There is not much I am permitted to speak of."

"Gods of water?" Bruce speaks up before Tony has the chance to demand something very rudely, or express just how concerned he is with what Thor may or may not be allowed to say.

The thunder deity thinks for a moment. "There is Neptune, god of the seas. His son Triton is a prince, although a rather arrogant one. His assistant Delphi, a dolphin god. And there are Nereids and Naiads, ocean and river spirits." He puts his arm back at his side. "Does that help you any?"

"Not really, unless any of they happen to be teenagers." Tony says, then adds, "And preferably human too."

Thor shakes his head. "No. Triton would be considered to be in his late twenties, I believe, if counting by Midgardian appearances. But I –" He stops with a confused look. "How is it that you came by this curiosity? Or that you even knew of the Roman gods?"

Bruce wrings his hands, if only to give them something to do. "There's a kid with water powers in SHIELD's custody. His name is Percy Jackson. Have you heard of him?"

He waits for Thor's answer, but the god's face has gone stoically blank. He blinks once, twice, and then the thunderer looks down at Bruce. His gaze wavers over to Tony.

"How dare –" He thundered lowly, dangerously, just enough that Bruce backed up a hair and began practicing his meditation techniques for breathing. _One, two, take in, one, two, breathe out, keep calm, don't freak out, lighting isn't dangerous_. "The organization of SHIELD –" Tony slowly puts a foot behind himself, and begins to back away as well. "Take _Percy Jackson_ into containment."

Bruce can feel a crackle of static in the air.

And then there is a swish, a fluster of red flurrying across their vision and he is gone, stalking out of the lab with a loud, hollow thud every time one of his boots hits the metal floor.

Tony laughs nervously, and Bruce can hear the puff of breath in it. "Guess he knew of him after all."

The two geniuses share a hesitant glance, then synchronically lunge out the door, yelling after the fuming Norse god of thunder, who has no doubt gone in search of the Director of the entire organization: a tired, pissed off Nicholas Fury.

**A/N: Short but sweet, that's what they say right? I loved writing Thor's reaction!**

**To my beautiful reviewers: Thank you for your sympathizing. School does indeed suck, and I still have so many years (okay, not that many) left until college, and then poof! – haha sucker, you're living on your own and you have to be responsible on your own while **_**still**_** going to school.**

**Man life sucks.**

**And on the topic of life sucking, I've recently been terrified by the Puerto Rican subduction zone that has apparently been building up stress for a thousand years, and could go **_**BOOM**_** any minute. It'll swamp the gulf coast… Heck, it'll swamp Dallas. And I live about forty minutes away from Galveston… If only I could graduate and go to OSU or something.**

**LOL, probably not gonna happen. Cause there was a magnitude 6.4 last week or something, and the epicenter was right near the trench. If I don't update ever again, I'm dead.**

**Sorry.**

**Love you guys!**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I thought it was pretty good… Right?**


	7. Fury's Displeasure

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

"Is there a reason that for the second time today, you are sitting in front of me, about as useful to me as an intern who cannot remember to do a damn background check?"

Tony can hear a huff and a grumble from somewhere out in the hallway, as said intern passes by with a clipboard in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and a pen holding her untidy bun in place.

"Furthermore," Director Fury continues, a low note in his voice, making it sound even more intimidating than it is when he's arguing with the Council. "I would like to know why it took myself, Agent Hill, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton _combined_ to restrain Thor from throwing his damn hammer through a damn wall and killing us all." He sits forward in his desk chair, hands folded and proper, a gesture that's not supposed to look so deadly, yet it does. "Care to explain?"

Not really. Tony figures that kind of stress isn't good for his mental health. But seeing as he and Bruce were the only ones there to watch Thor go from 'kicked puppy' to 'big mad scary god with hammer', and the good doctor was most likely struggling to put a lid on the emotions running in a torrent to actually catalogue everything that was happening at the time, the responsibility falls to him to actually go into long, drawn out detail as to why Thor is being forced to wait in the hallway, under the supervision of four level seven agents.

"He's mad at you."

Fury laughed, cold and mean, no humor leaking through. "I understand, Mr. Stark," He said lowly, "That Mr. Odinson is mad. I would like to know why he is mad."

Oh.

"So how's your research on Jackson?" Tony figures it's best to try and stall as long as he can. After all, he still has no idea how to actually delve into the subject of Percy. Thor obviously knows something about him, and Fury can't have that upper hand.

"Do not change the subject, Mr. Stark."

Dang it.

"I don't know!" Tony bluffs boisterously. "I just mentioned that you had Percy Jackson here, and he went all deep voiced, menacing god of thunder act on me!" He wheels on Bruce, now that the good doctor is a little calmer and less nervous that Thor is accidentally going to send a lightning bolt through something. "Tell him!"

Fury interrupts in a steeled voice. "Percy Jackson?"

Tony tries to pull off a helpless shrug, in a _What can you do?_ fashion. "Probably mad that you're taking kids into custody."

"You said all you mentioned was his name."

Damn. Tony's normally better at this, the whole improvising thing, but there is an angry master spy glaring a hole through his body, and the pressure of trying to keep Thor happy with him by not divulging any crucial secrets of utmost importance.

"I did."

"Oh," Fury states, unimpressed. "So are you going to stop lying to me yet?"

"Not really."

There's a commotion out in the hallway, and then here comes Thor, crashing through the doors of Fury's office with a very angry expression fixed very firmly upon his face. He ignores the rest of the team, and he ignores Tony and Bruce, opting to instead go right at Fury.

"Director of SHIELD!" He bellows, hands agitatedly gripping the leather set handle of Mjolnir like he does when he's trying to calm down. The reinforced bullet-proof glass panes in Fury's floor-to-ceiling windows rattle. "On Asgard, we do not lock away our heroes and warriors after a war well-fought. And yet you insist you are more evolved than that. Why is Perseus in your custody? He has done Midgard a deed, and you put him in a cell and try to put a needle in his arm."

_Hehe._

It's so uncommon, so foreign, that it deters the god from his very angry raging.

"What is that?" Thor says, already having reverted back to his normal, less thundery version of himself. Mjolnir is still in his hand, and he's still gripping her very tightly, but his knuckles are no longer white from anger.

Hehe.

It's a little bit louder now, and there's a crunching noise, and then a loud bang.

Thor has completely obliterated the doorway by running through the door, and so it is very easy to see the heap of ventilation duct now piled out in the hallway. And sitting in it is a very familiar duo, wearing identical cheesy grins.

"Jackson?" Tony asks, shocked. He was in a cell. Tony made the designs for that cell. It was hydraulic powered… Oh.

"Percy?" Bruce is confused, and too much confusion in one day isn't good for his pulse.

"Mr. Jackson." Fury's not asking a question.

"Perseus, hero of Midgard! It is an honor!" Thor beams very widely, and drops Mjolnir to the floor.

Steve focuses his attention on the other of the two teenagers.

"Peter." He warns in a stern voice. Clint sticks his tongue out at the Pete over Steve's shoulder.

And despite finally having the chance to know what's so special with this dyslexic, ADHD teen, there is still a heap of broken duct in his doorway.

Fury is not pleased.

**A/N: The biggest shout-out to Guest, my 100****th**** reviewer, and now my **_**new best friend!**_** JK, sorry Guest. And I just now realized the magnitude of how many reviews I am actually getting, after seeing six chapter stories with only nine reviews, or something along those lines, so thank every single one of you a ton, I love you all, oh gosh I'm such a sap.**

**Second, I am not dead, or sick, unless you count a minor cold and a couple headaches as sick, but thanks for the concern either way. To **CountessNicoledeLancret,** I meant Ohio State University, because I play euphonium and they have a super cool brass marching band, plus that's where a lot of my family lives, so… Totally my bad, my apologies.**

**Also, I APOLOGIZE WITH ALL OF MY BEING for the wait. In addition to finally getting into TPSP (a major school project), I have finally stumbled upon what is commonly known as Writer's Block, and have had no idea how to finish this story. So it took… kind of a while.**

**Also, I'm taking a writing class, so most of my time has been going towards either that or towards homework. And, I am now addicted to the series Artemis Fowl, I am on the fourth one, and I am sobbing because you know why for all of my readers who have read it.**

**It scares me how much I ship Holly/Root…**

**Anyways, this is just a short transition chapter, and hopefully the last one will be up within a week.**

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**Also, while this probably has the opposite of the desired effect, I noticed chapter six's reviews have reached over triple of the next highest amount of reviews for a single chapter.**

**Just saying.**

**Love you.**


	8. Avenger's Family

**When in Goode**

**Percy Jackson screwed up big during the Battle of Manhattan. Now, he has a science fiction pirate and the Avengers, including their newest recruit, Spiderman, on his tail. / "I'm a normal kid!" "Is that why we're standing fifty feet below the surface of the ocean?"**

**A/N: Are you ready for the end?**

The cover-up effort takes longer than it was initially desired. Fury orders a team of level six agents out to the park, where the "Mysterious Ghost Wave" was unleashed, and has them strip up the sodden land and lay down fertilizer, flourishing sod, and new stone pathways. Then, the team fences the place off, plants a "Under renovations" sign on the ten foot high gate, and plans to leave it to sit for about six months while the grass grows into the soil.

The city is then angered at SHIELD taking control of the land like that, and several level seven diplomats have to negotiate with the government after that. They demand to know what happened. The SHIELD agents refuse. And the government swears they'll be doing whatever they can to reveal the identity of this new Whirlwind boy.

Peter and Clint both mercilessly pick fun at Percy after that. The name sticks to him.

And yet, it's still weeks before the rest of the issue of what to do with the energetic and powerful "savior", as Thor calls him, is resolved. Percy is adamant to keep his secrets, and demands three of the golden coins that were confiscated from him back. He then disappears into an unused bathroom, and comes out sans coins and looking a lot less conflicted.

"My mom says to tell you that I had better not get hurt." He informs Fury at the team meeting they have five minutes later.

The news is taken in stride. Really though, nobody wants to question how Percy managed to talk to his mom when they're not stocking telephones under the toilet seats of the helicarrier.

In fact, it's nearly fifteen days later before Tony Stark has the nerve to say what everyone else has been avoiding, even Peter, Percy's new best friend as it seems.

He tries the direct approach. "So Whirlwind," he starts off. There is a definite snicker behind the words, and Peter and Clint giggle a little bit at the exasperated expression on Whirlwind's face. "What's the deal with you and water?"

Percy, to his credit, doesn't seem surprised, just a little hesitant. Tony glances toward the thunder god, but Thor is determined to keep his lips carefully locked unless the powerful demigod is willing to give up his secrets. So Tony turns his scrutinizing gaze back on the teen in the spotlight.

Percy stares at his pen for a few moments, not really sure of how he's supposed to answer the question. He's grown a lot closer to these people, the Avengers, as freaky as it seems when he's watching them on television, battling hordes of demons or aliens in the middle of New York or Washington, and once even Hawaii. But he doesn't know if he can trust them enough to fully give up his life, and willingly too, when the ones he's gifting this information to are some of the most highly sought after targets of kidnappings and interrogations.

So he smiles a little, to himself, and glances around at the people in the room with him. There's Fury, at the head of the table, hands folded in what Percy has come to learn is his 'I'm listening' pose. To the chair on his right is Steve, sitting rigid and straight-spined, looking for all the world like he's a still a soldier on base in Germany. Clint and Peter are side by side, heads bent together to look at some kind of app for the new StarkPhone. Natasha, curled like a leisurely cat on one of the many leather seated, high-backed, chrome and black spinning office chairs in the room. And Tony, attempting to disassemble Percy's darkest inner secrets with just his eyes.

Thor, ever the loyal Labrador, averting his eyes so that these secrets do not come spilling from the wrong place.

The realization is shocking, out of the ordinary for sure, but it's not accompanied by a flash of stars or bright white lights. It's something he could miss for sure if he didn't spend so much time thinking about it.

These people, gathered around him, are his family.

Peter is like his twin in a lot of ways. Percy's the brawns guy, and Peter's the brains, but they fit, and they do make a great super brotherhood. Steve's a dad, that's for sure, with his do-good caring attitude and Mother-hen tendencies. Bruce is the older uncle, the one who knows how the world can work, cruel and harsh, and would do anything to stop that from happening to the people he cares about.

And Tony is the cool younger uncle, the one who spoils them all until they're up to their eyeballs in gadgets and gizmos they don't need but use anyway. Thor's the big brother the entire world seems to look up to, and Natasha is their only sister, who likes to shut herself away in her room until she's needed, but somehow finds a way to take care of her family anyways.

Camp Half-Blood is his family too, more literally than metaphorically. He's related to all of them, no matter how many times the gods insist they don't have DNA and therefore they aren't. With so many people at camp, it's hard to get close to anybody. He had Annabeth. And he has his cousins, Nico and Thalia, both of whom he knows would get a kick out of playing superhero for a day, because they really all do think alike.

He has friends among his fellow demigods, and among the gods as well, but superheroes get it. They know what the pressure of saving the world does to your back and your mind and your trust.

In the Battle of Manhattan, he was their leader. Percy was the one who would have been remembered for his biggest failure if they lost, not the rest of them. The Avengers went six to two thousand in the name of New York, and eventually the world.

They get it.

He smiles again, and it seems a lot warmer this time than the first time. "Oh, you know." He says decisively. "Just another mythological creature, lost in time." It's not a lie, but it won't do any terrorists or enemies trying to get the scoop on him any good. Plus, it's kind of worth it to see Tony jump up and shout "I knew it was more mythology!" so loud that an agent on the deck above them stamps the floor as a universal shut up tactic.

Thor casts a questioning glance at Percy. He smiles once more. He has time to break the news to them.

"So Mr. Jackson." Fury cuts in, after he's done snapping at the excitable billionaire to sit the hell down and start acting his age. "Would you care to join the Avengers Initiative?"

He'll have to call Mom, and tell her he's planning to change his current living situation, but he figures she'll be okay with it. She always does seem to like that her little boy is being a hero when kids his age are smoking things of questionable legality behind dumpsters.

So really, Percy figures the question is unnecessary.

And Fury doesn't say it, but he and the rest of the team seems to think so too.

**A/N: And it is finished. I really do love the ending, if I do say so myself. Not a lot of dialogue here, but I enjoyed writing this.**

**Now,**

**I AM DONE! OH MY GOD I THOUGHT THAT I WOULD NEVER FINISH A STORY, USUALLY I HAVE A TERRIBLE THING WITH STICKING WITH WHAT I START. MY FIRST MULTI-CHAP FIC FINISHED, AND SO FAR WITH OVER 140 REVIEWS THANK YOU SO MUCH. I am really happy to finish this, because I think that it turned out a lot better than I had hoped.**

**I love it when my inbox literally explodes with reviews, so please keep them coming. Can we make 200? Please? I'll probably explode if you do, and then I'll turn right around and start squealing and skipping around my room. I'll post a 'Thank you' page as a last chapter, answering unresolved questions and listing down every single person who took the time to review, as tedious as that is gonna be, so get your questions, comments and concerns in now before I actually put the post up.**

**Lastly, as soon you've finished this, please hop on over to my profile page for info about possible continuations of this universe, and if you want, fill out the review survey I have compiled so I know what you would like me to do better and what you really enjoyed. Remember, feedback helps both the reader and the writer in the long run, so take the time to improve myself and earn yourself some higher quality work by giving me something to work on.****

**I'll never forget you guys.**

***dies***

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**Please note that flames, vulgar language and anything that I may deem as inappropriate will be ignored, and therefore you should not waste your time if you're trying to get a rise out of me. Thank you, have a nice day, and thank you for flying with The Periodic Table of Converse Airlines.


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